Deviously Hilarious
Deviously Hilarious by Brian Barnett For a period of time, during my elementary school years, I went to my Mammaw and Papaw’s house after school. I would ride the bus to their house and they would watch me until my parents got off work. Inevitably, I would have to use the restroom the moment I got there. Being a creature of habit, it became well known by my grandparents that I had to go use the bathroom before doing anything else. One day upon arriving, I must have let the fact that my Papaw was gone from his usual post slip past my perception. He usually leaned against the counter in the kitchen and dining room area. That day, I didn’t think anything of his absence. I just went to the restroom as I always did. Upon crossing the threshold to enter the bathroom, the shower curtain flung to the side and my Papaw cried out with his patented, “HA!” I nearly tripped over the door as I reeled backwards, arms flailing through the air. Just as he had done a thousand times before, to the countless victims of his practical jokes and scare tactics, he laughed. He didn’t just have a small chuckle. No, he laughed like I remember him laughing when something really struck him as hilarious. His throat and lungs seemed to rasp as he doubled over and held onto the tank of the toilet to keep from falling out of the bathtub. Of course, after recovering I thought it was relatively funny too. My heart was beating too fast to completely consider the humor of the situation. I waited, still wide-eyed as he left the bathroom. All down the hallway, I heard him wheezing laughter toward the kitchen where Mammaw surely was doing the same. After finishing in the bathroom, I cautiously opened the door, fully expecting a second scare. Fortunately he took mercy on me and let me be. After tentatively stepping out of the bathroom, I made my way to the kitchen. There he was, as always. He was leaning on the counter, with his chin resting on his hand. Of course he chuckled again, initiating the same response from my Mammaw. That was the first of a series of similar incidents. Infrequently, he would decide to scare me from behind the shower curtain. Thinking back, the effect would have been the same if he had just slapped the shower curtain to make it move when he yelled, “HA!” Of course, I can only imagine that most, if not all, of the fun was derived from my reaction, not the actual act of scaring me. He threw open the shower curtain to see me stumble over myself like an idiot. I have to wonder why I never wised up and expected him to do it. One day I made the ultimate mistake. I came in, as I always did, and went straight for the bathroom. I noticed that he was taking a nap in his room. A free pass, I thought. I used the restroom in peace that day. When he woke from his nap and came into the kitchen, I told him that I knew that he wasn’t going to scare me. I told him that I saw him napping in the bedroom and that I knew he wouldn’t be scaring me that day. The next day, perhaps the day after that, I don’t remember exactly, I continued my routine. I came in and went straight to the restroom, again. I saw that he was napping again. Ah, another peaceful bathroom visit, I thought. Upon entering the bathroom, the shower curtain flung to the side again and Papaw again cried out, “HA!” My chest nearly exploded. Again, I flew backward into the door. Impossible! I thought. How in the world could he have gotten me again? He must be Houdini! Of course he was laughing as always. In fact, he nearly laughed as hard as or harder than the first time he scared me. Perhaps it was a sort of victory laugh for fooling me. He left the bathroom, chuckling, of course. He went into the room and pulled back the blanket. Pillows. He had several pillows laid out perfectly enough to look like a body under the blankets. A deviously genius tactic, I must admit. I knew from that day forward that I was never safe against his practical joke prowess. I had been scared by the master. I learned a valuable lesson that day. Never think that you have outwitted someone whose mind is constantly geared towards the thrill of watching people jump in fear. One day when I’m a grandparent, I hope to be able to catch my grandchildren off guard the way he did with me. Who knows, perhaps subconsciously I knew he was waiting around the corner to get me. But that was part of the fun for me. His laugh was addictive. No matter how bad he scared me, he could still get me to laugh. My future grandchildren had better watch out. Category:Stories from the Barnett Family Category:Stories